The visitation
By PAT WICK
© Another Day in the Country
As I walked down to the office this morning, down the middle of the road, what to my wondering eyes should appear but a camel in Tony's front yard. Not just a camel, but a cow, too, and an empty manger, all remnants of the visit Tony had on Saturday night from the holy family.
Mary had been there, looking a little bewildered by the bright lights, clutching the baby Jesus. Joseph was there, not sure how he was supposed to look or what he was really supposed to be doing.
"Look attentive," someone had said to him. "Show some interest in the baby," another helper had instructed. He was trying.
The wise men were there. They didn't look particularly wise — except for one. He was the oldest, the tallest, and had volunteered to join them at the last minute. The others were reluctant participants, trying to fill the shoes of all those wise men who had come before them. They were cold, stomping their feet, rubbing their hands together, offering their gifts. (It figured they'd be cold in 20 degree weather, because supposedly the wise men came from a warmer climate — in that case one would have thought they came from the south!)
The shepherds were there. There were only two of them. No sheep. One cow. These two were sturdy, relentless shepherds who had tenacity and endurance written all over their faces. Shepherdesses would be the correct phrase — they were strong women in the community, holding down the fort, worldly-wise and just crazy enough to be outside in this weather kneeling before a newborn child.
It was a cloudy night. Cloudy and cold. There was no star that we could see over the manager although there were stars above the cloud layer, I'm sure — always are.
There was a bright light, so bright in fact that the shepherds, the wise men, the holy family winced at the brightness of it all and shielded their eyes.
And they were only there for a short while. We'll probably talk about it much longer in this little one-horse town. "Were there really strangers in town?" someone asked. "And was there really a holy family? I didn't see it."
The neighbor across the street saw it. "I could see them from my upstairs window," Collin said. "It was such a pretty sight. I would have liked to have seen more, but I was busy." Collin had guests that night at his house — he was showing them his trains while all of this wonderment was happening across the street at Tony's house, right in his front yard, right there on Main Street in Ramona.
If it weren't for the empty manger and the left over animals, I would have not thought about this encounter again for another year. My busy life would overtake me with bills to pay and grades to report and columns to write. But there they stood, a camel, a cow, and an empty manger reminding me of that old story about daring to do something unusual, following dreams and stars, and somewhere along the line receiving redemption on another day in the country.
Let me wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! You've all been the best of companions this year as we continue our country odyssey.
